


On the Inside

by mahbecks



Series: Becks' Gladnis Week 2017 [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Day 1, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Fluff, Gladnis Week, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance, Schmoop, Seriously Sickeningly Sweet, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 09:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12909537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahbecks/pseuds/mahbecks
Summary: “This is a wedding tattoo, right? Like a marriage symbol?”Ignis smiled. “Not precisely,” he said.“Aw, my bad, man,” the artist said. He laughed, the sound a little sheepish. “It’s just, most people come in here wantin’ someone’s initial on that finger, it’s because they just got married, you know? Wanna have something permanent to mark it. But that’s what I get for makin’ assumptions.”“You weren’t terribly far off the mark,” Ignis replied. “My partner and I have been together for a long time. We simply aren’t married.”Not yet, at least. And certainly not for lack of trying on Gladio’s part. He's asked Ignis to marry him no less than twelve times in the two decades they've been together.But this time is different. This time is special.Because this time, Ignis plans to say yes.*A story for Gladnis Week 2017, Day One - Tattoo!





	On the Inside

**Author's Note:**

> It's technically still December 3rd where I live, but I have to get up early to go to work in the morning, and I'm planning on doing both prompts for Day One of Gladnis Week, so I'm posting this now. 
> 
> Plus it's December 4th according to AO3 :)
> 
> For this fic, I'm also combining the theme "Tattoo" with the theme of "Marriage" from Day 5. It's a little random, but it worked with what I wanted to do, and now I can focus on finishing up writing the other prompt for Day 5. 
> 
> Much of this was inspired by multiple conversations I have had with a friend of mine about this topic, so I'd like to dedicate this to him, even if he never reads it. Here's to you, pal, and hoping you find the man of your dreams <3

 

“Got it.”

Ignis turned towards the sound of the voice, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

“I did just what you asked,” the man said. “Kept it simple - nothing too fancy, nice, bold lines.”

Ignis nodded. “Good,” he said.

“You know where you want it?”

“Mmm.” Ignis held out his left hand, making certain his fourth finger was most prominently displayed. “Just here,” he said, using his other hand to mark out a spot on the first knuckle, “right in the center.”

“Got it.” There was the sound of plastic wheels rolling across wood, and Ignis knew the man had drawn a little closer to him. “You said black, right? No color?”

“Yes, please.”

“Alright. Gimme just a few minutes to set up and we’ll get started.”

Ignis settled back into the chair to wait, letting his hand fall back into his lap. He was strangely calm - much more at ease than he thought he would be. He’d expected to feel trepidation at the thought of getting a tattoo, especially one with such strong sentiment attached to it. Would it hurt? Would the artist get it right? Would they be able to recreate the hazy picture he’d drawn up in his mind? He wouldn’t be able to see the end product, of course, so he’d be relying entirely upon the artist’s judgment.

The questions had swirled through his mind again and again and again over the past week, and he’d missed more than a few minutes of sleep over it. But now that the moment was finally here, the deed about to be done, he found himself oddly at peace.

Perhaps that was a good sign.

“So, how was the wedding?”

Ignis frowned, caught off guard at the sudden question. “I beg your pardon?”

“This is a wedding tattoo, right? Like a marriage symbol?”

Ah.

Ignis smiled. “Not precisely,” he said.

“Aw, my bad, man,” the artist said. He laughed, the sound a little sheepish. “It’s just, most people come in here wantin’ someone’s initial on _that_ finger, it’s because they just got married, you know? Wanna have something permanent to mark it. But that’s what I get for makin’ assumptions.”

“You weren’t terribly far off the mark,” Ignis replied. “My partner and I have been together for a long time. We simply aren’t married.”

Not yet, at least.

And certainly not for lack of trying on Gladio’s part.

He had proposed to Ignis no less than twelve times since they’d first started dating, back when they were scarcely more than teenagers. The first occurrence had been the day before they’d left for Altissia with Noctis. The most recent had been the very moment after Ardyn Izunia had fallen and the light had returned.

Each time, Ignis would pause and ask, “Why? Why now?”

And each time, Gladio would kiss him and say, “Why _not_?”

Ignis had never intended upon getting married. As a teenager, he’d quickly come to realize that serving Noctis would be a full-time job. With long days and longer nights, his duties simply didn’t afford him the sort of time it took to devote to a serious romantic relationship.

Of course, that wasn’t quite as much of an issue as it had once been. With Noctis gone and the light restored, Cor Leonis was in charge of running the kingdom of Lucis. Ignis still served as an advisor, but the Marshal hardly needed the sort of guidance Noctis had. Cor was a man grown, a man who’d stood at the side of royalty for decades. He knew what he was doing, even if he didn’t particularly enjoy the nuances of it.

Time was no longer an issue.

But that wasn’t the only reason Ignis had thought he’d never get married. It wasn’t simply a matter of there not being enough hours in a day - it was that, for the longest time, Ignis wasn’t certain he would ever find anyone whom he would _want_ to marry.

He hadn’t really understood what all the fuss was about, really. Never once, with any of his brief flings or infatuations, had he gotten a sense of mingled dread and heady anticipation at the sight of someone he found attractive. Never once had he longed to take one of his partners in his arms and just hold them there for hours and hours. Never once, he supposed it could be said, had he ever developed feelings for someone that extended deeper than friendship or sheer, unbridled lust.

Marriage, he had assumed, required both. Some sort of chemistry, be it physical or otherwise, yes, but also a deep bond, a true connection. Such a union implied that two people wanted to spend the rest of their days together, never parted, faithful in their love and trust and mutual need for the other.

The very concept of such a relationship had been strange to his teenage self - alien, incomprehensible, utterly unfathomable. It wasn’t that he hadn’t believed it could happen. He knew it could; he’d seen it with his own eyes, several times, between couples young and old. He remembered it in the way his father had looked at his mother. He’d seen it whenever the King spoke of his late wife. But those were other people, and he was himself, and knowing a thing existed and experiencing it firsthand were two very different things.

At twenty years of age, he’d decided it didn’t matter. It was hardly as if he would ever need to get married to do his job. Better to be invested in the here and now, he’d thought, to sink time into cultivating the friendships he had made, in the country he had dedicated his life to, in the prince he had sworn to serve. He didn’t want that sort of heady, all-consuming romantic relationship, he’d told himself. He didn’t need it.

But that had been before Gladiolus Amicitia had shown up on his doorstep one night and told Ignis he was falling in love with him.

“I’ve got an armrest situated to your left. Wanna put your hand on it for me?”

Ignis blinked, drawn from his musings by the artist’s voice, and quickly obliged. His fingers curled around the prop, the sanitary liner crinkling beneath his hand.

“I’m gonna put the stencil on now.”

Ignis nodded, trying his best not to move as the man applied the little piece of paper and then slowly pulled it off.

“Looks good! Now-” The artist paused, likely reaching for the instrument of his trade, and sure enough, the next noise Ignis heard was the insistent buzzing of the tattoo gun, sharp and metallic in the quiet of the shop. “This won’t take very long, but it’s gonna sting like a bitch. Finger tats always do - they're right on top of the bone, and you don’t got a lotta extra skin there.”

Ignis’ lips curved up into a smirk.

He’d spent nearly ten years in the darkness, fighting off daemons and protecting what was left of the world, getting perhaps more than his fair share of injuries.

He’d fought at his King’s side in that final surge to get to the Citadel, expending his blood, his sweat, and his tears in order to carve through a large swath of monsters and get Noctis to where he could fight Ardyn Izunia.

And perhaps most telling, he’d managed to hold Gladio down while prying splinters from his feet after he’d gone running barefoot on the docks at Galdin Quay.  

If he could handle those, and deal with the wounds he’d acquired in the undertaking, he thought he could handle a little tattoo.

But then the artist put the needle to his skin and began to work, and Ignis thought he had to agree - it _did_ sting like a bitch. He must have made for a face, for the man chuckled and paused. “Not great, yeah?”

“Not pleasant,” Ignis agreed.

“The pain’s worth it, I feel,” the artist continued. “You spend some time in the chair, lettin’ me stab you with some needles, and in return, you get something meaningful drawn on your body that’ll last you forever, if you take care of it right.”

“Something meaningful,” Ignis murmured. “Yes, it… it certainly is that.”

He hadn’t told Gladio that he was going to get the tattoo. It was to be a surprise gesture, one he’d been contemplating for several months now. The decision to engrave Gladio’s initial on his finger was not one he was making lightly. A tattoo was permanent, after all. But having that little reminder of Gladio, some actual, physical mark, even if it was one that he couldn't see, was something he’d decided felt right - something akin to accepting his proposal.  
  
It was time, he’d decided. More than time.

He was ready to marry Gladio.

But then, as his mind often did, a small part of him had asked - why should they _have_ to get married? If they did wed, it should be because the time was right and they wanted to do so, not because it was simply the next appointed step in the progression of a relationship. What would a ceremony do for the two of them that time and proximity hadn’t already done? What would it matter?

He’d recalled a conversation he’d had with his uncle’s lover, Giselle, back when he’d been perhaps thirteen or fourteen. Her mere existence had been causing something of a scandal among the more conservative faction at court - a man and a woman, living together, without being married? Without _children_? His uncle had politely told the old fogies to mind their own business, of course, and Giselle had just laughed it off. But people had still talked, and Ignis had sensed that the words had stung the couple more than they'd let on.

 _“_ As if we aren’t as good as married _,"_ Giselle had said once, looking over her shoulder at Ignis’ uncle as he'd brought a shared dinner to the table.

Ignis had frowned at that. “What do you mean?” he’d asked, perplexed. At the time, Insomnia hadn’t recognize common law marriages, and so he’d been utterly confused by that statement.

“Well, you see, Ignis, there’s marriage out here,” she had continued, waving a hand around her, “and then there’s marriage in _here,_ on the inside.” She’d tapped herself on the chest, right above her heart. “Why should we have to have a ceremony to make it official, when we already know it’s true? Just because it's what we _should_ be doing? Bah!”

Ignis hadn't quite realized it then, but her words had struck a chord with him. Marriage was more than simply an outward display of love. It was a bond, a union - and that was something that couldn’t simply be bestowed by a civil ceremony, by a mere exchanging of rings. Instead, it was something forged through time and commitment and good, hard work.

Signing a piece of paper wouldn’t create that if it wasn’t already there, that same part of his mind had argued. It wouldn’t change anything. The outward show was simply that - a show.

A show, a larger, more emotional part of him had argued, that was very important to Gladio.

Hence his decision to get the tattoo - Ignis didn’t feel that they needed to get married, though he certainly wasn’t opposed to the idea. In his mind, they were already married, closer than a good many wed couples he knew. But if this was something Gladio wanted, something that meant a great deal to him...

That was another matter altogether.

“And - done!”

Ignis relaxed the hand he hadn’t realized he’d tensed, flexing his fingers. The burning sensation he’d felt while the needle had been working at his skin was gone, replaced with a sort of throbbing ache not dissimilar to bad sunburn.

The artist explained the aftercare process to him while he bandaged up Ignis’ finger, giving him a sheet of paper with instructions on it should he forget anything. A bit useless, that, Ignis thought wryly, but then again, he’d planned on relying upon Gladio’s knowledge of tattoo care anyways. Still, he thanked the man for his time and paid before he was on his way.

He was anxious to leave, he found, much more nervous than he been to arrive. But the tattoo was the only one part of the plans he’d made for the night, and a rather easy step in the process at that. What was to come after…

Well.

He needed to gather a few things and then head back to their apartment to begin his preparations.

Carefully sticking his bandaged hand in the pocket of his coat, he set off down the street.

* * * * *

“Iggy? You home?”

Ignis straightened, turning to the direction of the door.

“In here,” he called. “In the bedroom.”

He could hear Gladio padding down the hall, socked feet soft on the hardwood floor. The footsteps faded perhaps ten feet away, and Ignis guessed that he’d stopped in the doorway - precisely where Ignis had meant him to.

“Iggy,” Gladio said slowly. “What’s all this?”

It was nothing, really - just dinner, which Ignis had spent the last several hours making. He’d prepared a pot roast, one of Gladio’s favorite meals, meat slowly cooked in a mixture of red wine, broth, and spices along with potatoes, carrots and onions. There was fresh bread, too, and an herb butter he’d made the night before, but it wasn't an unusual dinner in their household.

The wine and candles were a little more extravagant, true, but then Ignis thought the occasion called for something a little more special than soda or beer.

“I made dinner,” he said quietly.

“In the bedroom?” Gladio asked, snorting.

“I thought we could eat it in here,” Ignis replied, ignoring the easy retort he could have made. “We can listen to that record you found in the store the other day. The one about the rose?”

Gladio didn’t say anything for a moment, and Ignis wondered if perhaps it was all too much. Had he been wrong in doing this? Were his gestures unwelcome? He hardly thought that was the case, not when Gladio was as hopeless of a romantic as Ignis knew him to be. But then, they hadn’t had much time for intimacy and affection over the past six months, and perhaps Gladio was just startled.

He hoped that was the case, at least.

“Iggy, what’s this about?” Gladio asked, his voice soft. It drifted nearer, and a moment later, Ignis felt a hand on his arm, drawing him in.

“Well, I thought we could celebrate.”

“Celebrate _what,_ Iggy?”

“This. Gladiolus,” Ignis said, nerves making his voice sound breathy and light. “I have something to show you.”

“Yeah?”

Ignis took a step back, lifting his left hand. He’d not yet taken the bandage off, figuring it was best not to expose a new tattoo to a well-used kitchen. He did so now, peeling the tape off as gently as he could so as not to irritate the skin.

“You hurt?” Gladio asked suddenly, concern lacing his voice. “Cut yourself?”

“Ah - no,” Ignis replied. “It's nothing like that.”

“Then what is-” He broke off as Ignis lifted his hand, the bandage and tape abandoned on the nightstand. Gingerly, Gladio reached out, taking Ignis’ hand with his own. “Iggy. This is… when did you do this?”

“This afternoon,” Ignis murmured. 

“I…” Gladio broke off, chuckling. “I don’t know what to say, Iggy. I like it.”

“Truly?” Ignis let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I had hoped you would.”

A warm palm touched his cheek, thumb brushing against his lip. “Iggy,” Gladio said, more firmly this time. “I _love_ it.” He pressed a kiss to Ignis’ lips, and then another, his mouth sweet and gentle. “But I gotta ask - why? Why now?”

“Because it’s time,” Ignis said simply. “More than time, really.”

“Time for what?”

“For the world to know that I’m yours, and you are mine,” Ignis replied. Gladio said nothing, and so Ignis continued, going through the words he’d rehearsed earlier that afternoon. “The important people already know, of course - Iris, Prompto, Cor, Cindy, Talcott… but why should they be the only ones to know how deeply I care for you? Why should it not be obvious to anyone who looks at us?” He paused, taking a deep breath, trying to calm his suddenly racing heart. “You asked me once if I would marry you, Gladio.”

He snorted, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Well, not once,” he said. “Twelve times. That’s the current count, I believe. And each time, I asked you why we had to - why did we have to get married, when we were already as good as wed? Would a ring make me love you more? Would it make me want you any more than I already do? Of course not. It wouldn’t change anything, save our legal status.

“But the more that I thought of it, the more I realized how important it was to you,” Ignis added. “This is something you want, Gladio, something you want very much. And in realizing that, I realized that I also wanted it. Not because we have to, or because we should do it - but because we both want it.” He rubbed at his finger, where he knew the new tattoo rested, feeling the slightly raised path of the ink newly embedded into his skin in the shape of a delicate, cursive _G_. “Consider this an engagement ring, if you will, then. Consider this my acceptance.”

No sooner had he gotten the words out than Gladio’s mouth crashed into his, almost bruising in its intensity. Ignis laughed into the kiss, the sound quickly turning into a moan which Gladio pulled his lip between his teeth and nipped.

“Gods, Iggy,” Gladio breathed, pulling away so that he could kiss the rest of Ignis’ face - his nose, his cheeks, the scars at the side of his eye. “I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much-” He groaned, catching Ignis’ lips again in a kiss that left the both of them breathless.

“And I you,” Ignis gasped, fingers tangling in Gladio’s hand. “Truly, I do.”

Gladio pressed their foreheads together, laughing breathlessly. “I - fuck, I dunno what to say,” he said.

“Are you happy?”

“Iggy, this is honestly the happiest I’ve ever been in my life,” Gladio admitted. He snorted, then, his warm breath gusting over Ignis’ face. “Well, other than, y’know, wakin’ to find out we were all still alive - that _you_ were still alive.” He paused then, thumb tracing circles on Ignis’ cheek. “But this is what you want, yeah?”

“It is.”

“Because I don’t wanna make you do something you don’t wanna-”

“Gladio.” Ignis kept his voice stern. “When have I ever done something that I did not wish to do?”

“Yeah, I know. Never.” He had the grace to sound sheepish. “But you gotta admit, Iggy, you do a lotta things for other people. I don’t want this to be one of those things.”

“It’s not,” Ignis assured him, reaching a hand up and pushing some of the stray hairs out of Gladio’s face, away from where they were tickling his nose.

“You sure?”

“Truthfully, I’ve thought of little else since the light returned,” he admitted.

“Really? You never said anything.”

“It was a conclusion I wanted to reach on my own.”

Gladio kissed him again, and Ignis could feel all of his love poured into the gesture, into the tenderness with which he eased his lips over Ignis' and the gentleness with which he held his face. Tears pricked his eyes, and he irritably blinked them away, not wanting to ruin this moment that had been so long in the making.

“I do want this, Gladio,” he said. “Not because it’s something we need to do, or something that we should do. I want it for us, for you and I. I want it for our friends, to show them what good can come from darkness. And I want it-” He paused, swallowing thickly. “I want it for Noctis.”

Gladio’s hands tightened around him, pulling him closer still.  
  
“Do you know what he told me, that night before we returned to Insomnia?” Ignis whispered. "That last night with him?"

“What’d he say?” Gladio asked, his voice a pleasant rumble that Ignis felt rather than heard.

“He said he hoped that we were happy,” Ignis replied. “He wished us the best, Gladio, and told me - he told me that he wished that he could have been there to see us together. Away from all of this, away from the responsibility and the darkness and the pain-”

Now the tears _did_ fall, and Ignis thought there was little he could do to stop them. Gladio held him through it, though, hands warm and strong on his back, and that gave him the strength to keep going.

“He also,” Ignis admitted, chuckling, “Told me that it was about time we did something about it. 'Put a ring on it, Specs', were his exact words, I believe. Jokingly, of course.”

Gladio laughed at that, and Ignis thought the sound of it a little watery to his ears. Maybe he wasn’t the only one so affected, then.

“Little shit,” Gladio said, the smile in his voice belying his words. “He _would_ say something like that.”

“His last order to us,” Ignis mused. He drew away, wiping at his face.

“Guess we’d better obey, huh,” Gladio replied. He put a hand under Ignis’ chin, lifting it, no doubt so that he could look straight down at Ignis’ face. “Wouldn’t do to disobey our liege.”

Ignis could practically feel his smile, and the warmth radiating from it. What he wouldn't have given to see the look in his eyes.

Gladio took a deep breath, then, readying himself. “So here goes, then," he said. "Ignis Scientia - we’ve been together for almost two decades now. You’ve seen me at my worst, and you’ve seen me at my best. You’ve stuck with me, through thick and thin, hell and high water. Astrals know why, but you have. And I love you for it - so fuckin’ much, Iggy, I -” He broke off, taking a deep breath. “I don't know what I did to deserve you. But you chose me. And now, I hate to break it to you, but I never wanna let you go. So I gotta ask, then. Iggy, babe - for the thirteenth and hopefully last time, would you do me the very great honor of marrying me?”

Ignis beamed, drawing him in for one more kiss.  

“I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> As always, feedback is much loved and appreciated <3


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